Don Project

While everyone was out Friday night gushing over the Carissa's Wierd reunion, a small crowd at the Mars Bar was treated to an entirely different philosophy of music. Instead of low whispers and layers of sound, Treasure State brings clear, sparse songs to the musical world. And in doing so, they provide a counter-argument to the current trend of "more is better."

Surprisingly, Treasure State has been around for about ten years. They have two records out, one of which is available from Woodson Lateral, a great local label. A traditional three piece, Mercer, Leffler, and Rathman perform anything but traditional music. You might recognize the last name of the guitarist, Mercer, as the last name of the singer of The Shins since the two are, in fact, brothers. Robert, of Treasure State, has a similar vocal register as James but sings less poppy melodies and is a little rougher around the edges. Treasure State songs often slowly build in intensity and encompass a wide range of emotions. The songs are much like the state the band is named after--Montana, that is--with wide expanses of open space punctuated by soaring melodies and clear tones. Live, the trio stretch these open spaces even further and prolong the tension, making the melodies that much more rewarding.

Treasure State sound remarkably like no other Seattle band I can think of. To find a sound similar to Treasure State, I believe you'd have to head back to late '90s Illinois and listen to an American Football record. They share that same penchant for arpeggiated melodies, the slightly wandering vocal lines, the technical rhythms and nontraditional song structures. Yet, even American Football fills more space than Treasure State.

The most remarkable feature of their set on Friday was the floor of the stage. As hard as I looked, I did not see a guitar effects pedal anywhere. Even the set list was almost comically small.  Treasure State keep it simple and their stripped-down approach to music is, I hope, inspirational to those that think music requires recruiting heavily from your local orchestra. There's something about the space between an open hi-hat and a snare, between a low bass line and a plainly sung lyric, between the quietest strum of a high guitar string and the crash of the whole band in unison that will forever be more powerful than as many musicians as you can cram in a room.

It's my hope that Treasure State will get in the habit of playing more than once per year and perhaps even promoting their show. We could use a reminder that there is beauty in the simple things.

I know, I know, you're too cool to dance. I am, too, buddy. I might even be the King of Not Cutting Loose. But every once in a while we should throw down our crowns for a bit and gather together for a bit of enjoyment.

Last week, I was on Spring Break. I spent most of it hiding from the intermittent rain and playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. By the end of the week, I had probably gained about fifty pounds and heard entirely too many preteen voices berate me for my lackluster gaming skills using creative homophobic and racist terms. I needed to get out of the house and hang out with some adults.  The venerable Sunset Tavern provided me with just that opportunity on Friday night.

Velella Velella bring local indie flavor to the dance party. Let's face it, Seattleites are awesome at playing instruments. So great, in fact, that we get bored of playing one and instead learn to play several. The five multi-instrumentalists of Velella Velella play a clavinet, flute, bass, guitar, Wurlitzer electric piano, a keyboard or two, a drum machine track, synthesizers, tambourines, cymbals, and other various percussion while one or more of them belts out some party tunes. The various instrumentations and contrasting male and female vocals make the band sound slightly different on every song, just like listening to DJ set allows you to experience different tracks.

In general, their sound is reminiscent of funk and soul, but they have brought those classic tones to a modern electronic era. It's something that everyone can get into, but not so familiar that it becomes stale. It's an exciting recycling and remixing of the best dance eras that gets people smiling and having fun.

Velella Velella brought so much fun to the Sunset last Friday that even the venue itself seemed to be sweating though the air temperature outside was still chilly.  Inside, it was Spring Break while the outside remained Normal Day Job. In the end, Velella Velella succumbed to the crowd's desire for one more song and the very last word of their set--the word that should end everyone's Spring Break--was "party."

The folks in Velella Velella have been around quite some time, participating in a wide array of projects. They are split between Seattle and Portland, so play infrequently, but they did announce that they are working on a new record that they plan to release soon. If you need a little something to shake up your next cool guy party, pick up that record.

I think I heard somewhere that good writing usually divulges some dark, personal secrets. I can't claim to be a good writer, but here are two secrets I shouldn't tell anyone.

1. In 4th or 5th grade, my mom walked in on my friend Mike and me. We were in front of the mirrors in the living room, playing air guitar and singing. The tape playing was Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet.

2. I like Dashboard Confessional.

There, I said it. Now that these horrible secrets are out in the open, we can have an honest conversation about what happened last night at Key Arena. According to the three young girls that sat next to me, what happened was "awesome."

Dashboard Confessional opened the show to an arena about half-full. Whenever I mentioned this lineup, my friends thought the combination of bands was strange. Perhaps it was some sort of attempt by Bon Jovi to attract a younger crowd. Judging by the reaction of the audience, they weren't there to see Chris Carrabba sing about his ex-girlfriends. A couple ladies in the front were up and dancing, but in general, all I saw were people sitting and politely clapping or the red cushion of an empty seat.

I don't think Dashboard Confessional songs work very well as arena rock songs. In fact, I don't think they work as rock songs at all, and Carrabba should stick to playing them as acoustic singer/songwriter jams in small venues. His demeanor on stage appears to agree with me. Carrabba looked uncomfortable in the middle of the big arena and even said, "Thanks to Bon Jovi for inviting us out, that was very kind." Hopefully they will find some self-confidence as the tour continues.

Bon Jovi took the stage dramatically to a recording of their song "This is Our House"--a song that could easily be the theme to a hockey team entering the ice. This began their two-and-a-half-hour marathon set which included three encore songs. Here is the massive and all-encompassing set list.

This is Our House (recording)
Blood on Blood
We Weren't Born to Follow
You Give Love a Bad Name
Born to Be My Baby
Roulette
Shot Through the Heart
When We Were Beautiful
Lost Highway
Superman Tonight
We Got it Going On
It's My Life
Homebound Train
Hallelujah (cover of Leonard Cohen song)
Bed of Roses
Something for the Pain
Hey God
Work for the Working Man
Bad Medicine
Who Says You Can't Go Home?
Love's The Only Rule

encore:
Thorn in My Side
Wanted Dead or Alive
Livin' on a Prayer

Despite my distant seat and the tens of thousands of other people there, this show felt surprisingly intimate. Jon Bon Jovi appears to be a personable and genuine guy and his between song banter was not as much typical rock deity filler, but actual conversations with the 20,000 or so people in attendance.

Yet, judging again by audience reaction, people are glad they played a healthy selection of old songs. They yelled the loudest for songs off Slippery When Wet. Bon Jovi acknowledged this himself, wryly: "Believe it or not, there were records before Slippery When Wet." They did play at least one song from most of their albums (except 7800° Fahrenheit and Bounce, their two least successful albums), but it was clear by the number of girls screaming that the crowd favorite was their best selling album.

Through the anthemic rock endings, costume changes, and thousands of watts of lights and projections, Bon Jovi followed the arena rock pattern of shock and awe. They played old favorites and introduced new material. In short, they did exactly what was expected of them. I would have appreciated some pyrotechnics, but those seem to be out of fashion in big rock shows these days. Despite the lack of explosions, I talked with a few people after the show and they all seemed to have enjoyed their experience. A couple were wondering about Bon Jovi's ability to hit the high notes in "Livin' on a Prayer" after a couple hours of rocking, but in general, I heard no negative reviews.

So, if you enjoy massive rock shows, I think Bon Jovi is a safe bet. Much safer than playing air guitar and singing in your living room. Sorry Mom.

Bon Jovi and Dashboard Confessional play their second show at Key Arena tonight, and it looks like seats are still available. Tickets range from $33 for an upper level seat to $500 for a VIP experience. The show starts at 7:30 p.m.

Do not be afraid to admit it--I know you're as excited as I am for this.

Eighties rock legends Bon Jovi are resurfacing once again with their recently-released album The Circle, and the North American tour kicks off here in Seattle tonight. Even if you didn't grow up in the '80s, surely you know that Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora were inducted to the Songwriters Hall of Fame last year and The Circle has spent some time at #1 on the Billboard charts. This alone should be enough motivation to get you down to Key Arena to see what rock from the '80s is really all about.

For the kids who were born after Bon Jovi's second round of popularity (the "It's My Life" era), Dashboard Confessional will be opening both shows. Chris Carrabba and crew also have a new album (Alter the Ending, released on the same day as The Circle), and I daresay that it might get some of the older folks in the crowd to become fans.

The tour will be in town for two nights and it looks like lower level seats may still be available for both nights. Tickets are available from Ticketmaster and range from $33 for an upper level seat to $500 for a VIP experience. Shows start at 7:30 p.m.

If you can't make it to the show, you can also watch the first couple songs live via webcast on Ustream at 8:30 p.m. Look for the hand permanently formed into a "rock on" sign--that will be me.

"It's pretty brave to have a festival in February. I like it." - Lisa Molinaro of Talkdemonic

While "pretty brave," the Cumulus Music Festival is also pretty genius. February in Seattle is the perfect atmosphere for an experimental music festival centered around expansive instrumental rock bands. Twelve such bands from Portland, Seattle, and Davis, California played over the last three days at Mars Bar and The Funhouse. Crowds were relatively small but enthusiastic, increasing as the festival went on.

I took a moment between sets at The Funhouse to discuss with founders Mark Schlipper and Levi Fuller how the festival was going. They were very pleased with how the bands sounded and how everyone was enjoying themselves. There was a question as to whether the festival would happen this year or not, as third founder Kenny Day was in Alabama, so they were feeling like it all came together very well, especially given short notice.

This was my second year at the Cumulus Festival and I enjoyed the lineups this year just as much as last. This year seemed more organized into different themes each day where last year had a little slice of everything each night. However, this year was still widely varied and quite good.

On Thursday, it was tough to pick a favorite. I missed Paintings for Animals' experimental electronica, unfortunately. The Luna Moth was magnificently unrelenting with their crescendos and repetitious songs. Joy Wants Eternity was epic, melodic, had a beautiful mkII Rhodes sound augmenting the guitar, and was the crowd favorite. Yet, something about Scriptures (formerly This is a Process of a Still Life) made them stand out for me.

Scriptures were a little faster and a little more country than the others that night. Pedal steel, alternative percussion, and a keyboard augmented the standard guitars and drums. They seemed to craft songs about wide spaces in middle America. Formerly from Missoula, they obviously have experience with these landscapes. With deeply layered melodies and interspersed marginally chaotic parts, they create the perfect soundtrack for driving across Montana. I, for one, am glad they made that drive and relocated to our fair city.

Friday night was great. Hosting the festival was seminal Seattle punk venue, The Funhouse. Seeing melodic instrumental bands at a venue that I've seen many punk bands at was a playful change. Schlipper and Fuller mentioned that they'd scheduled all the loudest bands for Friday where possible. It suited the Funhouse well.

Though The Ever Changing Sky, Elders, and This Blinding Light were pretty fantastic, my favorite of Friday was AristeiA, from Portland. Perhaps, because I had seen all those punk shows at the Funhouse, AristeiA fit the best with my musical tastes. A little like a hardcore band finding its melodic roots, AristeiA played with emotion and power. They were exciting to watch and were clearly into what they do. Their beards were well suited to their rocking Pelican-esque tunes, just a little bit edgy but keeping them from rocking out too much lest they get too warm. It was a great set and I'm looking forward to their next visit.

Saturday night started slow back at Mars Bar. As the night progressed, more people filled in the small space and the temperature rose. We created our own little shelter from the cool February rain outside. The bands on Saturday were more experimental, playing with strange instruments (viola? sampler?) and banks of effects (no guitarist had less than eight pedals, it seemed). The largest crowd of the festival loved it all.

I enjoyed the guitar experimentation of Bill Horist, the surf-jazz-rock-smoke machine mashup of Diminished Men, and the tight musicianship of Talkdemonic, but the standout for me was Bronze Fawn. Full disclosure: I've been a fan of Bronze Fawn since pretty much the beginning--before that, even--since Vermilion led to Joules led to Bronze Fawn, I suppose. Their sound is perfectly complimented by a live video editor. I probably could have stopped that sentence just before "ly complimented" because their sound is perfect. Occasional high melodies over a fuzzed-out bass line with delay and reverb everywhere on top of the clean, yet forceful rhythm of the drums. Their songs make you think of arctic adventurers or the paths of whales. Yet not just about the things that happen, something deeper than that. Like what whales think about or what someone walking to the North Pole would really experience. A meta-adventure, if you will. Their new record is a little less on the melodic side, but just as ambitious and amazing. If you haven't picked it up or seen them live, do so now.

Cumulus Festival, you rule. Thank you for bringing us a slew of bands we've never thought to go see, thank you for expanding our concept of rock music, and thank you for being so brave. See you next year.

Seattle is the perfect place for instrumental rock music. We have talented musicians and long stretches of dreary gray skies to inspire epic songs. Luckily, the folks organizing the Cumulus Music Festival have already thought of this and set up three days of varied instrumental bands to showcase their experimental magic.

The bands playing this festival run through a wide range of (mostly) instrumental music. If you're in the mood for those gray skies mentioned earlier, the dark and haunting melodies of Diminished Men or The Ever Changing Sky might satisfy you. If you're a little angry that summer isn't all year round, the emotional stirrings of Bronze Fawn or AristeiA might suit you. Looking to stand around with your jaw hanging open for 30 minutes at some ridiculous musicianship that you can't quite comprehend? Bill Horist or Paintings for Animals have you covered.

I guarantee this festival will bring you something that you have not seen on a rock stage before. Whether it be poignant video presentations to go with the music, a strange combination of instruments or a fifteen minute crescendo, this three-night festival will be out of the ordinary.

To check out some of the bands before you attend, you can download the official preview.

• The Cumulus Music Festival begins 8 p.m. tomorrow, February 11th, at Mars Bar. It continues at the Funhouse on the 12th and finishes up back at Mars Bar on Saturday. All shows are 21+ and $8.

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Back in November, I attended a wonderful short film festival called Couch Fest. Tomorrow, they will be holding a 90-minute screening of their best films at Northwest Film Forum.

The premise of Couch Fest is pretty simple: a few brave souls open up their homes to a slew of random strangers and show a series of short films. They vote for their favorites and sit next to each other in awkward silence or sharing timid conversations. Every hour, the strangers leave and a new batch strolls in.

For socially chilly Seattle, the festival is quite a departure from the stereotypical norm. Even this native Washingtonian found himself chatting with strangers about the short animation that just blew our minds or the awesome one-minute film of a lion roaring. For some reason, sharing a couch in a stranger's house (or garage) with a bunch of other strangers makes us a little less estranged.

To get a taste of how awesome this festival is (minus the couches), stop by the Northwest Film Forum at 1515 12th Ave, this Sunday at 3 p.m. Admission is free.

An image from Chris Cab's Birthday last year @ El Corazon, care of watermelon4linz, via Flickr.

There comes a time in everyone's life where they have to set aside all of their attempts at being cool. At times, you just have to give in to the things you like without worrying about who is watching or what you look like.  Saturday night's show at El Corazon was one of those times.

There's a hierarchy of perceived musicianship that I would like to share with you now. This is, of course, completely my opinion and pretty arbitrary and general. Here it is, from most musical to least musical:

1. people that compose classical music
2. people that play classical music
3. people that play and/or compose jazz tunes
4. popular musicians who write their own songs
5. popular musicians who don't write their own songs
6. cover bands
7. Milli Vanilli  (or any other lip-sync acts)
8. karaoke singers

Saturday night, a bunch of popular musicians who write their own songs sunk two levels and became cover bands. A couple hundred people willfully enjoyed the spectacle of six bands from the past being recreated by musicians of the present. The lineup was Fake Face to Face, Fake Screeching Weasel, Fake Cock Sparrer, Fake Guns n' Roses, Fake Minor Threat, Fake Black Flag, and Fake Botch. My personal favorites were Fake Screeching Weasel and Fake Minor Threat.

Screeching Weasel is a political punk band specializing in silly songs about Nicaragua or suburbia. Their heyday was the early '90s, when they signed with Lookout! Records. On Saturday, two gentlemen from recently disbanded Kane Hodder and two of their compatriots from Smokejumper comprised Fake Screeching Weasel. They played the silly political punk songs faster than seemingly possible. The crowd responded by singing along to the classic punk rock "woah oh oh ohs" on classics like "Hey Suburbia." Though no mosh pit broke out, the audience was clearly enjoying themselves.

The highlight of the evening, in my opinion, was Fake Minor Threat. Even though I was just entering kindergarten when Minor Threat broke up, they have been an important part of my musical psyche since I discovered punk. The cover set felt a lot like 1982. Prominent hardcore musicians did a fantastic job of recreating the spirit of the founders of straightedge hardcore. It was fantastic to wave my fist in the air and sing "Out of step with the world!" with all the other old straightedge folks. There's nothing like a little circle pit to get the 30+ year old hardcore crowd going.

Honorable mention goes to the guitarist from Fake Guns n' Roses for doing an amazing job of accurately replicating Slash's lead guitar parts. Chris Cab himself mentioned on his Facebook page that it was better than any Gn'R show in the last 15 years.

Overall, the night was about forgetting to be cool and just having fun. It was a night for reliving the best times of our lives. It was a night to remember. It was everything a birthday party should be. And happily enough, I understand that this will be happening again next year.

Let's say you had the power to convince popular and excellent musicians to set aside their original compositions and accept the horrible stigma of being in a cover band. Whose songs would you get them to play? What would be the special occasion that would convince them this was necessary? How much would you charge people to see this spectacle?

If you're Chris Caballero (a.k.a. Chris Cab), notorious Seattle music personality, the answers are easy. You would get your friends from local bands like Kane Hodder, Schoolyard Heroes, and Sirens Sister to play your favorite punk songs by Jawbreaker, Minor Threat, Botch, Screeching Weasel, Black Flag, and more. You would absolutely have this happen for your 30th birthday. When that was successful, you'd repeat the process for your 31st, of course. And, most importantly, you wouldn't charge anything.

El Corazon will host this ridiculously fun, sing-along show this Saturday, beginning at 10 p.m. (doors at 9). Entry is free, but you have to be 21+ to attend.

Ever have one of those dreams where you go through your everyday routine only to find out that you've forgotten to put pants on? Sunday afternoon, a couple hundred people made their dreams a reality by participating in Emerald City Improv's No Pants Light Rail Ride.

The instructions for the afternoon ride were easy. Meet at Westlake at noon. Get on the light rail. Take your pants off. Pretend like everything is normal. Go to the airport. Have fun. Ride back to Westlake. Go home and hope your co-workers won't find the pictures of you that show up on the internet. Reminisce.

After overcoming their fear of public pantlessness, people took the ride with varying degrees of seriousness and silliness. Several gentlemen were dressed in business suits and nice shoes. A few groups of people pretended they were just going to catch a plane.  It seemed that everyone was dropping books or change on the platforms and bending over really slowly to pick it up. The rest of the participants were taking pictures, reading books, drinking coffee, or talking on their phone, just like a regular train ride in any other city, except from the waist down.

In Seattle, we've only had this particular train for a couple months. Ridership has been expected to rise with the opening of the new airport station. Sunday might have been a bit of a boost to those numbers. In the car I rode in, there were approximately 34 people. 30 of those people lacked what one might call "pants."

Unfortunately, this lack of regular riders decreased the shock value of the afternoon. In New York, ridership on the subways is definitely greater than on our shiny light rail trains, which would explain the greater turnout in that city. But New Yorkers are used to seeing people wandering around in their underwear all the time anyways. Here in Seattle, such brazenness is a bit of a welcome sight--well, maybe pale and in need of the gym sight, in my case.

To go with the improvisational theme of an event that was well-publicized beforehand, many participants enacted various roles. Once we reached the airport, a small group on my train wandered in to baggage claim and started to rant about draconian security measures that robbed them of their pants. The passengers of United Flight 331 were unsure of what to do. I took my bare legs and got some hot chocolate.

Response from the riders was generally pleasant or, at the very least, Seattle nice. An older couple was caught unaware in the Westlake tunnel, but thought the idea was fantastic, taking a moment to snap a picture or two. A family at the airport station seemed to recall hearing about it somewhere but were still taken by pleasant surprise by all the bare legs. According to a security guard I spoke with, no extra security measures were in place for the day. However, the fare enforcement officers were looking very perturbed by the whole thing.

Most people I spoke with had heard about the event through Facebook, though it appeared that only 30 percent of the RSVPs actually showed up. Yet, event organizers did a great job of making sure that everyone was wearing not-too-offensive undies and that participants were relatively spread out on trains. They also led us in a nice round of hokey pokey above ground while we waited for trains to arrive (only ten minutes!). They didn't really spend much time worrying about why people would want to do such a thing as ride the light rail with no pants on; they just got the word out and made sure everyone remembered to buy tickets.

At this point, I'm still a bit confused what the purpose was. I mean, I was there merely for journalistic purposes, of course. Some were there for exhibition, undoubtedly, while others were there to enjoy the exhibitionists. Some participated to practice their acting skills or thaw the Seattle freeze a little bit. A great number of people were exclaiming that this was the first time they had ridden the light rail. Perhaps there should be a law prohibiting light rail riders from wearing pants, if this is the effect on ridership.

I guess each participant and victim of the No Pants Light Rail Ride will take from it what they want. I, for one, verified that gentlemen prefer boxers or boxer briefs these days. Males also had to undertake far fewer risks than the female participants did. On the ride back, a foursome of youngsters drove this point home. The lack of pants on the guys showed off their legs all the way up to the bottom of their kneecaps, while the pantlessness of their female companions included quite a lot of cheekiness, if you'll forgive the pun.

In the end, I hope that everyone involved got to live out one of their dreams, whether it be to ride the light rail lacking pants, or to ride the light rail with a bunch of strangers lacking pants.